Playing Games
by Kaia-Rhea
Summary: Kyle is trapped in an abusive relationship, unable to fight back, unable to accept that the man he loves doesn't love him back. Rated M for violence and rape. Please don't flame. I don't like fire.
1. Chapter 1

_It was just a game. I could have quit any time I wanted.  
Yet I kept on playing. I always had._

**Chapter one  
**I pulled my jacket further around me, bracing against the raw, bitter cold. Hanukkah and Christmas were over, the festivities finished, and the freezing winter winds that whipped around me no longer held less severity due to the prospect of the holidays. Around me, kids were screeching happily as they held snowball fights and clumsily built snowmen, the cool yet blinding rays of the January sun threatening to turn the fat bodies of the snow people into slush.  
I was walking back from work to my boyfriend's apartment, and yet it felt like I was on a death march. I suppose I was, in a sense. It could be any time, any place. All I had to do was slip up and that would be it. _Game over.  
_At times I would wonder if he ever loved me. Or if I was just his puppet, only useful to be manipulated in his twisted games.  
I came to the door of our run-down apartment, where I was expected to cook, clean, and do all the other chores, while he'd just lie around smoking and drinking. He drank a lot.  
I slid my key into the lock, and as usual a little spark piped up in the crevices of my conscious mind. _Turn around. _I could have run. I could have escaped the world I had become so familiar with, run away to start a new life. _A new life. _But I would always come back. I always did, and the consequences were always catastrophic. Sighing, I turned the key, and let myself inside. The sweet, almost tangy smell I'd come to recognise as marijuana filled my nostrils. I sighed again, knowing that he'd probably skipped work again to stay home and 'relax'. _He _would get fired, and _I _would pay the price. That's just how it worked.

"So, you're back." I spun around from picking up piles of dirty clothes on the floor to find _him_ glaring at me. The emotion- or rather the lack of it in them penetrated my skin, and the size of his pupils discretely confirmed my suspicions- by the size of them I could tell he'd probably been home smoking all day.  
"H-hello sir" I stuttered. His mouth split into a corrupt smile, and he took a few steps towards me. It took every ounce of willpower in my body to not cower away from him, but I stood my ground and stared back at him. He was close enough for me to be able to smell the alcohol on his breath- and I knew that could only mean trouble. Drink turns him from the calm and collected individual I used to be proud to be involved with to the savage, brutal beast I dreaded the sight of. Unfortunately, there was rarely a day when I wouldn't come home to find him stoned, smashed, and occasionally in the company of a hooker or two. I never knew whether he did the same sick things to them as he did to me, but I was, ashamedly, glad to be taken out of the spotlight once in a while.  
"I asked you a question, little fuck." he snarled, bringing me out of my reverie. "What took you so fucking long?" I clenched my fists nervously.I _knew _I should have taken the shortcut.  
"I'm sorry sir!" I began shakily. "The roads were icy and I didn't want to fall." he grabbed my arms and shook me hard, his eyes ablaze with contempt.  
"If falling means you'll get home on time, then you'llfall, god dammit!" he roared in my face. I shrank back, petrified.  
"Y-yes sir. Colt, please-" I didn't finish my sentence; he'd drawn his fist back as far as he could, and with what felt like the power and strength of a professional boxer, slammed his clenched fist into my stomach. The pain blinded me, and I sank to my knees, coughing and spluttering. He yanked me back up by my hair, pulling us so close that our noses were almost touching. _Almost. _He dragged me over to the couch, and tossed me onto it as if I were a bag of trash. I wanted to curl up and melt away into the sofa, but he was strong. Strong and ruthless.  
"No! No!" I panicked as he began to pull down my pants and underwear and straddled me. I tried to wriggle away, and he struck me hard across the face. I quietened down some, but still whimpering as he forced his throbbing cock into me. I scrunched my face up, tears streaming down my cheeks in little rivulets as he forced me into an unwanted climax. My whole world was pain; and I turned my head to the side so I couldn't see the look in his cold, hard eyes as he raped me. _Again.  
_It was the same every time. Once he'd had enough, once he'd finished with me, he'd leave, slamming the door behind him. He was probably going to get more booze or crack or something. I curled up and wept for what felt like hours, before I heard a knock on the door. I sat up, wiping my face, and gently pulling my pants back up.  
"Kyle? Open up! We know you're in there!" I groaned inwardly. Why did Stan always want to butt into my private life? I limped over to the door, and pulled it open to find Stan and Wendy on my doorstep. They both took in my red, puffy eyes, but said nothing, and I stepped back to let them in. Stan wrinkled his nose.  
"Dude, it stinks in here! What's he been getting stoned on this time?" I shrugged and rubbed my tired eyes absent-mindedly.  
"It's probably just stuffy 'cause we haven't opened the windows all day." I muttered._ You liar. _Wendy stepped gingerly through the piles of garbage to join me by the dining table. She took a hold of my arm. I knew she was trying to be comforting but I very nearly flinched away.  
"You know you're always welcome with us, don't you Kyle?" concern laced her voice. I tried to smile at her.  
"Thanks, but I'm fine. It... Just needs cleaning." Stan wasn't so tactful.  
"You know that's not what she means." I looked away, feeling my cheeks go red. "We know what he does to you; everyone does! Hell, I bet even Cartman's stopped being a fat fuck long enough to see that something's wrong. It's only you that seems to be in denial." I pulled away from Wendy's grasp and turned away from them, only to be grabbed again by my best friend. He spun me around so I was looking into his big blue eyes. I could see he was genuinely worried, I could tell by the way his eyes implored with my own.  
"Please" he begged. "Be careful." I nodded, unable to find any words to say. We all jumped at the sound of a key in the lock. I went pale, and clenched my fists.  
"Shit" I whispered. Colt staggered through the door, carrying several bags of some kind of alcohol.  
"Hey, little fuck. What have you been..." he trailed off as he caught sight of my friends, and I backed up a few steps. Right then I would have given anything to turn back time and not answer the door when they knocked.  
"What are _they _doing here?" he growled. Stan and Wendy exchanged glances.  
"They were just leaving" I'd tried to sound casual but failed miserably; my voice came out unnaturally high and false. Colt glared at me.  
"You _know_ I don't like people I don't know here Kyle" he snarled, advancing on me. Stan tried to stand in his way, but Wendy took his hand fearfully, and gently tugged him out the door. He turned to me and mouthed something at me, but allowed himself to be dragged out. _Leave him.  
_Colt slammed the door after them, took one last drag on his smoke, and put it out on the coffee table. I winced. It had been my _mother's _coffee table._  
_"Get down on your knees and beg, bitch."  
_Leave him..._


	2. Chapter 2

_No reviews. :( How depressing.  
Mind you, it doesn't take much to depress me. Oh well. I write more for my own gain than anyone else's.  
So there! ...Please review! :D  
Anyway, I hope this isn't too shit. Ta for reading. _****

Chapter two  
I didn't go to work the next day. I told my boss I'd woken up with a bad case of the flu and might not be in for a week or two. Mr. Hinton is great, and I always feel so bad for lying to him. I seemed to be needing more and more sick leave as the weeks went on, and I wasn't sure how long I could keep doing that.  
I went to the local café, and drank coffee. The woman who served me was very sympathetic when I told her my rare blood disorder caused me to bruise unusually. _Liar. _I drank cup after cup, black coffee with no sugar. Strong. _Be strong. _When it was time to go, I dragged my feet a little more than usual, as if a rebellion was spiralling up inside of me.  
Colt wasn't there when I got home, so I used the opportunity to get a proper look at my bruises. My face wasn't so bad; I mean it was blatantly obvious that I'd had my ass kicked, but apart from a black eye and the swollen bruises on the side of my face the damage wasn't too bad. It was my ribcage that was worrying me. One of the ribs was sticking out slightly, and really painful. I was sure it was broken.

Stan called a couple of days after Colt had forced them to leave. He called four fucking times, and I refused to answer the phone. Colt would glare at me every time the phone rang, and every single fucking time a surge of fear would shoot up into my heart._ Answer it. _Don't answer it.  
Ever since my parents and Ike had been killed in that car crash, Stan had acted like a big brother to me. I couldn't help feeling like I'd let him down. _You always let people down. _When the ringing finally stopped, he actually came to the house. Colt was out, _thank God, _but I still refused to open the door. He knocked for nearly ten minutes, yelling through the door. First he sounded sincere, then worried, and then just plain angry.  
"Don't say I didn't warn you about this!" he shouted. I ignored him. _Answer him! _The loud smashing noise made me jump right out of my skin. He'd broken the window and let himself inside. I stared at the glass all over the floor. My heart pounded. _He'll kill you.  
_"STAN!" I felt dizzy, and my chest hurt. I had to grab onto the back of the sofa to support myself, and Stan, suddenly alarmed, took a few steps forward to catch me if I fainted.  
"No!" I put a hand out to prevent him coming any closer, and he stops, taken aback.  
"He's gonna kill me!" I screamed hysterically. "He's gonna beat me and rape me and it's all _your _fault!" _It's _**_your_**_ fault, not his._ He looked shocked, as if he hadn't been expecting me to ever come out with it.  
"Are you happy?" I sank to my knees, tears streaming down my face. "You know now, so are you happy?"  
"N-no, Ky-" I pulled myself up to his height.  
"Why the FUCK did you do it? I obviously didn't want you to know! So why?" This time, I paused to let him answer. His eyes filled with tears.  
"Because you're my best friend!" I froze. _See what you've done? _I sank to my knees again, and this time I didn't flinch away when Stan joined me. He put a tentative arm around my shoulders, and I leant into his comforting grasp.  
"I'm sorry" he whispered. I nodded and sniffed, and he ran a hand through my red hair.  
"Why don't you come back with me? We could take some of your stuff, and you could camp out in the spare bedroom. It's the best thing to do, Ky."I thought it over for a couple of minutes, and nodded slowly. Stan smiled at me for the first time in months, and helped me to get up off the floor. I winced as my injured rib cracked under the strain. My friend frowned slightly, and helped me into mine and Colt's room. I pulled some things into a suitcase, slowly warming to the idea that I'd be free. _Free. _But the dream shattered when I heard the front door crash open. _Drunken footsteps. _  
"Hide!" I whispered frantically. Stan crawled under the bed, and I quickly shoved the case next to him.  
"Kyle! Where the fuck are you?" _Slurred speech. _Colt staggered into the bedroom, pushing me backwards onto the bed. "So, you got pissed and broke the window, huh?" I whimpered softly as he clumsily fiddled with the button on my jeans, eventually just yanking them down.  
"I'm sorry sir..." he punched me, first in the stomach, then in the ribs. _Hard. _I screamed as I my already broken bones took on a whole new level of agony. I heard a groan from beneath the bed. _Stan. _Luckily _he _didn't notice; he was too busy shoving himself inside of me; busy robbing me of my self-respect, of my will to live. I cried, and tried to sit up. _I cried. _He grabbed fistfuls of my hair and angrily shoved me back me back, trying to settle inside of me. He pinned me to the bed, grunting, as he mercilessly thrust in and out of me over and over again. I gripped onto his biceps and dug my nails in hard, trying not to scream. _Scream!_ And it was over. He rolled off of me, panting like a dog. I coughed and tried to choke back my sobs. Sweat lined my brow, and I must have looked a total mess. When Colt finally got up to leave; not without aiming a blow to my face; I was curled up, my body wracked with heavy sobs. I felt a comforting hand on my side. _Stan. _I'd forgotten he was there.  
"Kyle..." he nervously ran a hand through his scruffy, raven coloured hair, and leant over me to look into my face. I turned away, buried myself into the pillow. I was ashamed and embarrassed. A blanket was draped over me, and protective arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I breathed in Stan's scent and gripped onto his shirt.  
"C'mon, let's go." he helped me to stand, grabbed my case, and, holding on to me the whole time, guided me to the front room. I glanced around at the bare walls and the hard wooden floors, my heart warming at the idea of never again having to live in this run-down pit of a home.  
Stan paused by the door to help me pull up my pants. Usually I'd have been too mortified to let him do that, but at that point I was beyond caring.  
"Y'okay?" I nodded shakily, and blinked at the bright light when my friend opened the door. It was always so dark in Colt's house; he hated having to pay the bills- not that he ever worked to make the money anyway.  
"It'll be okay, Kyle. I promise..." Stan reassured me as we were driving back to his place. I sat back in the seat, a small smile tracing over my lips. _Promise._

Less than an hour I was lying on my best friend's couch, an ice pack pressed to my side. Wendy sat in the armchair next to me, absent-mindedly stroking my hair.  
When I was younger I'd hated my hair because it was kinda fuzzy, but as I'd grown older it had straightened out a bit, and hung loosely around my face. Stan paced back and forth in front of us, and my eyes followed him lazily. I was tired; all I wanted to do was sleep. But I had a feeling that he wasn't going to let me do that yet.  
"So... What happened today... Wasn't the first time?" I sighed, fiddling with the tassels on a cushion.  
"No, Stan. My answer hasn't changed in the last five minutes." I instantly regretting being sarcastic to the man who'd done so much for me.  
"Sorry" I mumbled. Wendy smiled reassuringly at me, while Stan just kept pacing. He reminded me of a caged lion, trapped and taunted for all the world to see. _Just like you.  
_I'd begged not to be taken to hospital, knowing that they would arrest Colt. Stan thought I was crazy, accusing me of still loving the man who beat me senseless- I didn't deny it. He asked what I saw in him; but the truth is, you don't have to see anything in a person to love them. And now, that little part of me that for so long had pleaded with the rest of my mind to leave him seemed to have reformed, now begging to go back to my boyfriend._  
_I closed my eyes, wishing for all of it to just go away. I was faintly aware of mumbled voices around me, of the arms that gently wrapped themselves around me, and even in my unconscious mind I could feel my soul singing at the release of its entrapments.

I woke up in the guest bedroom at two in the morning with god-awful chest pain. It was as if razor-sharp talons were savagely ripping my lungs open. I gasped for breath, clutched at my side. _Get Stan. _I tried to yell but I could barely breathe, let alone talk. I had to think fast, so I grabbed the lamp from my bedside table, ripped it out of its socket, and hurled it against the far wall as hard as I could. It made a satisfactory CRASH-ing noise, and moments later Stan had sprinted into the room. I flopped back onto the bed as he took in the scene, before rushing over to me.  
"Kyle?" I coughed raggedly, staring up at him and Wendy with bulging eyes. He smoothed the curls back from my face, and felt along my neck for my pulse. _Weak pulse. _She pulled the covers away from me, and lifted my shirt. She gasped at the bruising around my broken ribs.  
"Call 911!" _That was Stan. _"Hold on Kyle, stay awake!" I tried. God, I tried, but the urge to close my eyes and drift away became too much, and I let the darkness envelop me.

_Meh._


	3. Chapter 3

_This chapter's just going to be a short one... Kind of just to 'fill up the gaps' I suppose.  
Thanks for reading._

**Chapter three**  
I woke to the occasional beep of a machine and the buzz only hospital wards can emit. My side ached; as if my muscles had been stretched and manipulated, and my insides prodded around. _Wake up. _I blinked a few times to clear my sight, and a blurred figure came into my vision. I suddenly became aware of the tentative hand gripping my shoulder. _Must be Stan. _  
"Hey, how are you?" he asked softly. I groggily touched the oxygen mask around my mouth, and tried to cough the tickle out of my throat.  
"You're in hospital." Stan stated the obvious, and my eyes widened when I realised that the police would surely have been alerted. He must have read my expression; his hold on me tightened slightly, and his voice was firmer when he spoke.  
"It's okay. We'll talk about it later." I nodded, and closed my eyes. I was just drifting off to the surreal land of sleep when I heard another voice.  
"Mr. Broflovski? How are you feeling?"I coughed again.  
"Okay." I think the doctor was expecting me to say more; but there wasn't really anything _to _say.  
"You broken rib punctured your lung, resulting in something called pneumothorax. We inserted a chest drain, but it wasn't enough considering the size of the air leak. We had to operate to close the tear." I tried to digest all this information, but it was all jargon to my ears.  
"Your nurse will come round and see you in a little bit, but you should try and rest for a bit." I croaked out my thanks.  
Stan sighed heavily and flopped into the chair beside me. He looked absolutely terrible; his eyes were red-rimmed and he was pale. _It's all your fault. _I closed my eyes, but I could feel his gaze on me.  
"You have to tell the police." he said at last. I lazily opened one eye and pulled the mask down to my chin. He put a hand on my chest, feeling it rise and fall, as if he was scared I'd stop breathing again. Neither of us said anything until Anna, a big, bustling nurse, came over to us. She reminded me of my mother, cosy and protective.  
"Hey, how you feeling?" I didn't answer. I'd had enough of people asking me questions that should have obvious answers. She took my pulse and checked my stitches, and asked me how it happened._ Tell her! _I remained silent and eventually she moved on to her next patient. _Coward._

I stayed in hospital for four days in all. I was relieved when Stan told me he hadn't said anything- I'd expected him to have blurted it out as soon as the paramedics arrived.  
The journey back to his house was uncomfortable to say the least. Neither one of us spoke a word, but tension hung heavily in the air like fog over a horror scene. Wendy made a huge fuss over me, making sure I was always comfortable, and cooking all my favourite foods. I was grateful, but at the same time I wished she would stop. I wasn't used to being the centre of attention, and it made me uncomfortable to be so much trouble. I started helping her with the chores, which made me feel a little better.  
One evening, I went into Stan's study. Pictures of him and Wendy hung all over the room, and I settled my gaze on one particular photo of him and me, our arms clasped around each other. We looked happy and normal. Y_ou'll never be normal, you freak.  
_"Stan?" he looked up from his desk.  
"Yeah?" I nervously fiddled with the hem of my sweater.  
"Listen, I... I really appreciate what you've done, and I'm really grateful and all but..." he stood up so we were face to face.  
"But what, Kyle?" I sighed.  
"But I don't want to be a burden, and-." a smile turned up the corners of Stan's mouth.  
"Stop right there. You Kyle, are _not _a burden. You are my best friend, and the day you become one will be the day I kick you out on your ass. And I honestly don't ever see that happening.  
"You help around the house, you've said you'll go back to work and help pay the rent when you're better, and Wendy loves having you around. So do I. So believe me Kyle, you are anything _but a burden._" I smiled, my heart glowing with his praise. He opened his arms out, and I happily stepped into his embrace.


	4. Author's Note

_Hi, and sorry for the delay.  
Something bad's happened at home... And right now, I don't have the time to update my stories. So sorry about that. I'll start writing again as soon as I can, but until then... Yeah._

Malakai


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Hey, everyone. Sorry for the absent-y thing. You'll have to excuse me if this chapter is bad, so please don't tell me about grammar and spelling and all that shit. I seriously don't give a flying fuck right now, I've had a terrible week.  
I wasn't gonna tell you what was going on, for various reasons. Then I realised that I haven't told **anyone. **Not my 'friends' at school. No one. And I don't even know you guys, so telling you will make no difference whatsoever.  
So, basically, my little brother Noah... He's really sick. **Really **sick. The doctors thought he was on death's door until a few days ago, and now... Well... He's zonked out on meds, and I'm a nervous wreck. I've had seventeen cups of coffee since this morning, courtesy of the wonderful nurses, and now I'm home. Mum's in bed, Noah's out like a light, and I've done all my homework. So I figured I may as well write. I know it sounds really selfish when my brother's so ill, but I've done all I can.  
But please, (and I can't believe I'm saying this) - Pray for him tonight. Pray for my little brother._

**Chapter four  
**Colour started to flow through my cheeks again. I felt I could laugh, smile, cry without the immutable fear of _him _pounding on me. _Or into you.  
_"Kyle? You in there?" I blinked, once, twice. Wendy was peering into my eyes, the look on her face hovering between concern and amusement. I smiled sheepishly, running a hand through my hair.  
"Sorry. I was just thinking about... Stuff." She patted me sympathetically, and reached over to grab the kettle to make tea. _That's so gay.  
_"Wanna talk?" she sat down at the small kitchen table, motioning at me to join her.  
"Thanks..." I mumbled. I hadn't actually talked about it yet. _Don't... _  
"Just how long had he been... You know..." I sighed, wrapping my hands into each other. I stared at the table, and mumbled when I spoke.  
"He started about four months after we met... Up until then everything was fine."  
"But that was seven years ago!" I nodded miserably. There was a minute of uncomfortable silence in which I committed the pattern on the table in front of me, only to be broken by Wendy's stifled sobs. I looked up, alarmed to see her with her head in her palm. I just stared at her, unsure what to do.  
"Wendy? What's wrong babe?" We both looked up to find Stan at the doorway, his arms folded. I looked away again.  
"K-Kyle..." she sobbed. "That b-bastard... He..." She didn't finish her sentence, for her boyfriend pulled her into his grasp. Stan shot me a confused glance, and I looked away ashamedly.  
I hadn't meant to make her cry.

_Sweat trickles down my quivering body in little rivulets, each stream marking me in a shimmering coat of shame.  
I cry out in pain as yet again a foot connects with my side, and knocks me to the ground. A hand grabs a fistful of my fiery red hair and yanks me up by it to face him. I stare fearfully into his cold grey eyes.  
He releases his hold some, letting me drop to the floor; as if repulsed by what he sees in my own, dulled blue orbs.  
We are both fully naked, a sign that bodes painfully in my conscience, reminding me of what I know is to come. He tightens his grip on me again, and shoves his semi-erect cock into my resisting mouth. I try to cough desperately as he hits the back of my throat. At first I try to get away, try to pull back, but his iron grip keeps me from doing just that.  
"C'mon, suck it you little whore" he growls at me, and I comply. I close my mouth around his member and run my tongue around the length of it, shuddering in disgust while he lets out moans of pleasure. It feels so wrong.  
Eventually he pulls back.  
"Wouldn't want to end the fun so **soon**, would we my little slut?" he taunts. I close my eyes, hot tears streaming down my face as he orders me to bend over the bed. I sob desperately as he digs his fingernails into my hips, and without so much as a word of warning he shoves himself into me. I gasp, my vocal chords seemingly paralysed; that is until he starts thrusting in and out of me.  
I scream_

I was screaming. I was drenched in sweat, and I was screaming my fucking head off. Stan burst through the door, followed shortly be Wendy.  
"Kyle!" Stan wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close and rubbing my back. "Shh... It's okay, I've got you..." Wendy takes a step back, watching us both with a sad look on her face.  
"N-nooo..." I choked out. "Make it s-stop..."  
I felt something warm on my neck, and pulled back to find that Stan, my best friend, was crying. _Look what you've done! _He hadn't cried in front of me since we were nine and Trent Boyett tried to kill us.  
But he was crying like a baby now.

_A/N: I know that most people describe Kyle as having green eyes... I don't know why, as on the South Park website it says that only Stan (and possibly Kenny's) eye colour have been confirmed. So therefore, I gave Kyle blue eyes.  
Hope you enjoyed.  
Reviews would actually make me feel so much better... If you have time that is.  
Thanks._


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: _**_This chapter's dedicated to 'ROSELLA1', for the kind words he or she gave me.  
By the way, this chapter is mostly filler, but it will help to develop Kyle's character a little._****

Chapter five  
"You never know, it might help you feel better dude" I stayed silent, playing with the tassels of a cushion, and Stan sighed.  
"It wouldn't be forever, either. You could go for a trial period to see if it might actually help you. 'Cause I don't care what you say, you _do _need help. Last night wasn't the first time me and Wendy've heard you in your sleep." I looked up at him questioningly, and he shrugged as if it was nothing.  
"You're always talking about him. Begging him to stop. Don't you think that's enough of a reason to go?" I sighed, folding my hands in my lap. I can feel Wendy's stare on me; a pathetic, reproachful look that causes guilt to freely flow through my veins.  
"I'm sorry..." I whispered, and Stan shook his head.  
"Don't apologise. You have to stop apologising, it isn't your fault. But this is exactly what I mean- you have no self-esteem anymore! You're just a shell of the Kyle I used to know!" _Answer him, faggot. _He sighs again.  
"Remember this?" he raises his arm, the traces of a few thin scars littering his arm. I nod, biting my lip. It was the first time he'd brought it up in ten years.  
"You caught me... Doing this" he nodded towards his arm "And you got me to stop. You talked me through it, you stuck by my side and went to counselling with me while everyone else looked the other way. Now I'm doing the same for you." I reached out, and took his hand in mine, tracing my fingers along the faded marks Stan had caused in his troubled teenage years.  
"Okay." He looked surprised.  
"Huh?"  
"I said okay. I'll go." his face split into a wide grin, and he pulled me closer to look into my face properly. He looked drained, his eyes were sunken and were framed by bags. I wondered if I had caused that. _Worthless. You're absolutely worthless. _

I chewed the tips of my nails nervously. My first appointment with a professional counsellor was two minutes away, and all I could think about was making a run for it.  
I jumped as a man who looked to be in his early thirties poked his head round the door. He took in both me and Stan, but his eyes rested on me.  
"Hi, are you Kyle?" I shivered slightly. I was obviously the more nervous of the two of us, but it still freaked me out a little that he'd worked out who was who at a second's glance. My eyes flicked towards the door, and Stan put a firm but reassuring hand on my arm.  
"C'mon in" the man said. I felt slightly wobbly on my feet as I followed Stan into the room. The man introduced himself as Conner, and motioned for us to sit down.  
"So, what are we here about?" he asked. His tone was friendly enough, but I still froze, unable to talk to him. Conner was very patient in waiting for me to say something. Stan... Not so much.  
"It's his boyfriend" he broke the silence, and I shrunk away, ashamed. _You should be, fag. _"Or rather his **ex**-boyfriend." Stan continued. Conner scribbled something down on his clipboard.  
"Okay... So are we here for couples counselling?" Stan looked shocked. _  
_"No! I mean... Kyle's my best friend." _See? He'd be ashamed to be your boyfriend. Anyone would.  
_"Kyle? Still with us?" I look up, tears shining in my eyes.  
"Sorry" I mumble. Conner gives me a sympathetic look.  
"This boyfriend... What was it that made you break up?" I bit my lip, playing with the hem of one of Stan's shirts.  
"He..." I couldn't say the words. _Coward.  
_"Take your time." he continued to scribble things down as I continued to keep the silence.  
"He-hit-me-and-made-me-do-stuff" I blurted out. As soon as I'd said it, I clapped a hand over my mouth. Stan put a comforting hand on my back and rubbed it in small circles. Conner didn't look phased at all.  
"Okay... What sort of stuff?" I looked at Stan, who'd cocked his head at me. I sighed, a blush creeping out over my cheeks.  
"...Sexual stuff... Can we talk about something else?" Conner raised his eyebrows slightly.  
"Yeah, okay. So how are you feeling today?"  
"I'm fine." _Liar._  
"Really? So why're you here?" I paused.  
"I'd presume that if you're here, it'd mean that things aren't going so great, right?" he continued. I shrugged.  
"Guess not."  
"So how are you _really_?" I blinked a few times, considering it.  
"Tired." he continued to write. It was starting to get on my nerves.  
"Why are you tired?"  
"I don't sleep very well.  
"I see. And why's that?" Silence descended again.  
"...Because I get nightmares" I murmured. _  
_"What about?"  
"...C-Colt..."  
"Who's Colt?" my hands were starting to shake with the effort of not bursting into tears. I swallowed nervously and looked at Stan again, imploring him with my eyes. _Coward!  
_"Okay, so I'm gonna take it that Colt was your ex-boyfriend. Why is that so hard to say?"  
"'Cause... 'Cause I'm ashamed..."  
"Of him?"  
"No, of me." Conner checked his watch.  
"That's all we have time for today Kyle, but I'd like you to do something for me in the week before we see each other again." I raised my brows inquisitively.  
"Whenever you have a bad dream, I want you to write down what you were feeling in the dream. And what you feel when you wake up. Can you do that?" I nod, staring at my feet. He gave us a warm smile, and opened the door for us to leave.

"Y'okay?" Stan asked. We were walking back to his house from my appointment, and neither of us had uttered a word up until then. I sighed.  
"No." he patted me awkwardly on the shoulder  
"Hey, at least we made some progress"  
"How?"  
"A couple of days ago, you'd never had admitted that." he was right. I hadn't realised before, but I was always covering up my emotions. Now... I felt different. The counselling session had made me feel kinda... Raw, I guess. As if my outer layers had been stripped off, exposing what I really was. _A coward. A faggot. _I sighed heavily.  
This was going to be a long haul.

_This chapter probably seems a bit rushed. And yeah, it is rushed.  
Sucks to be you, right?  
Thanks for reading, a review is always appreciated._


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N: _**_I am dead set on writing a chapter that's actually _**_long_**_, for a change. My longest is just over 1700 words, and that's a little pathetic, isn't it?  
If I want to end the story in the amount of chapters I've planned, I'll have to start writing longer anyway._****

Chapter... Hmm... Where are we now? Six is it? ...Sure, why not?  
_"Where're you goin' Kyle?" I clench my fist tighter around my suitcase, my brows furrowing slightly in annoyance. I've been going out with this bastard for about four months now, and last night he came home completely smashed. He actually hit me! So this morning, I packed up my stuff.  
"I'm leaving you." he spins me round to face him, his eyes full of confusion.  
"Why? Is it something I said...?" he trails off slightly, and touches the mark on the side of my face.  
"Did someone hit you babe?" my mouth drops open; he must have been really drunk to not have remembered what happened. Well, either that or he was bluffing.  
"You don't remember?" a deep growl emits from his throat.  
"It was Craig, wasn't it? I'll kill that fucker!" I put my hands up to calm him. He's been getting angrier and angrier over little things lately.  
"No! It was you! You did it! How can you not remember?" he looks confused. Has he really forgotten?  
"Oh my God... Kyle..." he sinks to his knees, looking up at me with tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry... I would never do that to so sober..." A sudden wave of compassion pangs at my heart, and I sigh.  
"It's okay" I assure him. "I know you didn't mean it."_

My mobile vibrated in my pocket once again, and once again I ignored it- I knew all too well who it would be. It had already been a couple of weeks since I'd left Colt, and he hadn't bothered trying to contact me in that time. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd tried to leave, but it was the first time I hadn't come crawling back within a few days. _Wow. You must be a genius. _  
He'd sent me text after text, ranging from angry to apologetic, from horny to high, and so far I'd managed to ignore them all. I hadn't told Stan or Wendy. I didn't want them to worry.  
"Shouldn't you get that, Ky?" Speak of the devil. He ran his hand through his scruffy raven-coloured hair. I smiled half-heartedly at him.  
"Nah, it's probably just to say my balance is running low..." he narrowed his eyes.  
"But you're on a contract. I know you are, 'cause you paid the bill the other day." I groaned inwardly- I could have kicked myself for being so stupid. He held out a hand.  
"Give it here." I reluctantly pulled it out of my pocket, and handed it to him. He flopped on the couch beside me, and flicked through a few of the messages. His eyes widened slightly more with each one, and eventually he just dropped it onto the coffee table and sat back, letting out a low sigh.  
"Why didn't you tell me?" I blinked a few times, trying to get my answer straight in my head. I didn't want to annoy him, or upset him.  
"Ky? Still there dude?" he'd put a hand on my arm, and I hadn't even noticed. "You've been doing that a lot more recently. Zoning out, I mean." I tried to smile at him. _Freak._  
"Have I? Oh... Sorry, I was gonna tell you, but I didn't want to worry you. I'm sorry." he shook his head, grinning back at me.  
"Dude, I swear if you apologise for something that's not your fault I will kick your ass." I flinch slightly and his smile quickly turns into a frown.  
"Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" I waved his apology off.  
"It's okay, _I know you didn't mean it_."

"Ahh! Goddamn you, Broflovski!" Kenny yelled at me. It was the first time I'd seen him in months; word on the 'street' was that he'd gotten arrested for dealing drugs. He told us he'd just gone to Peru to see the sights.  
Anyway, he'd come round for dinner, and I was kicking his ass at Game Sphere when the doorbell went.  
"I'll get it!" I shouted through to the kitchen. I figured it'd probably be some door-to-door salesman again. But I opened the door to see Colt standing there, absolutely fuming. He was glaring at me, his eyes piercing through my skin and playing Russian roulette with my adrenaline levels. I tried to close the door again, but he shoved me back into the hall, following me in. _Be brave! _I swallowed nervously, but still stood up straighter and looked him in the eye.  
"What do _you _want?" he smirked at my tone of voice.  
"I'd choose your words carefully, slut." he growled. I took a step backwards, and glared back at the man in front of me. He reached out and grasped the front of my shirt. Fear gripped my stomach as he pulled me so close that our noses were touching. He raised his fist, and I cowered away. _Fight back, you fag! _  
"Ky?" Kenny popped his head round the lounge door just as Colt brought his closed hand crashing into my jaw. "Kyle!" within a split second Kenny had pounced on him, dragging him off me. I staggered slightly and fell backwards into Stan's outstretched arms. My jaw ached, but it wasn't the worst I'd ever had.  
"Are you okay?" I nodded woozily. Stan lowered me onto the ground, and launched himself at Colt, who was apparently winning the fight against Kenny.  
"Get the FUCK out of my house!" he yelled at my ex-boyfriend.  
Now, Colt may be an alcho _and _a druggie, but he's smart enough to know when he's outmatched. He spun round to glare at me again.  
"I'll get you, little fuck. Whether it's next week or next year, I _will _get you." I sighed, staring back at him.  
"Just go, Colt." I muttered tiredly. And to my surprise, he did. Wendy rushed to my side, and pushed my hair back from my face.  
"Kyle! Oh God, are you alright babe?" I nodded again, flashing her a smile. She touched a hand to my jaw, gently tracing the pattern his rings had caused. Kenny was staring at me, a mix of shock and anger on his face. We hadn't told him why I was staying at Stan's yet.  
"What. The. _Fuck_? Who the hell was that, Kyle?" he was breathing hard from the sudden exertion of fighting someone twice his size. I looked away. Stan was watching me carefully, also panting- but more with rage then energy levels.  
"That was Kyle's ex." I pulled myself to my feet, running a hand through my hair.  
"Seriously? Dude, did you cheat on him or something?" _Slut._  
"Well not exactly, no..." I didn't want to tell him. I knew he wouldn't think any less of me if I did, but I just didn't want yet _another _person to know. Stan seemed to have different ideas though.  
"That mother fucker was abusing Kyle" he growled. Kenny stared at me in shock. I covered my face with my hands. "He used to hit him and rape him and-" I'd sunk to my knees again, and Wendy shushed her boyfriend.  
"Stan!"  
"Oh... Sorry dude..." I was shaking slightly, and she put an arm around my shoulders.  
"S'okay..." I mumbled through my fingers. Kenny was pacing in front of us.  
"No, it's not okay!" he yelled. I flinched, but he took no notice. "I could KILL that bastard!" I sighed.  
"Kenny, you saw how strong he was. If he was really drunk he coulda taken you straight out..." he continued to pace. "Kenny!" I implored. He looked up, his face contorted with pain. _YOU did this._  
"How could I have missed this?" he whispered, tears streaming down his pale face.  
"Kenny..."  
"No! How could I have missed this? I was too busy getting high to notice that one of my best friends was having the shit kicked outta him? What kinda person does that make me?" Stan touched him on the shoulder, trying to get him to calm down.  
"You couldn't have done anything." he said softly. "The only reason I managed him convince him to move in here was by accidentally causing him to have a mental breakdown. I've fucked it up and made everything worse so many times that I've actually caused him more harm than good. You knowing as well would have just made things worse. Trust me, you couldn't have done anything."

_Four hours later..._  
"Kyle?" his soft voice gently cut into the silence, bringing me out of that limbo between consciousness and sleep. I rubbed my eyes, and sat up in bed.  
"Kenny? Is there-"  
"Don't say anything." he cut me off, and came to sit on the side of the bed. I stared into his gorgeous eyes, as blue as the deepest ocean. Our eyes match in colour, but while mine had been dulled by the constant beatings I'd received over the years, his were still sparkling, and full of life.  
"Kyle, I love you." my mouth dropped open in shock. I had _not _been expecting that. "I love you. I've loved you since we were sixteen... I thought it was just a crush, but it's not. It's _not. _I love you, Kyle Broflovski, and I'll protect you from that bastard whether you want me to or not.  
"I think about you day in, day out. I couldn't get you out of my head, and when you started dating that fuck of a boyfriend I thought my heart would break. I love you, I love your hair, your eyes, your personality... I love everything about you." Silence filled the room again. _He must be mad to love you. _"Please say something!" he begged.  
They say actions speak louder than words, and I can see why too.  
My mind was racing a mile a minute, and every second I kept the silence I could practically see Kenny's heart break a little more.  
But when I leaned forward and gently pressed my lips against his own, I knew that just one kiss could say more than a thousand words ever could.

_The next day...  
_"_...completely traumatised! How could you _**_ever_**_ think that this would ever be even a remotely good idea?_"I groaned, and tried to rub away the tiredness in my eyes. Last nights events came flooding back to me, and a small smile crept across my lips. I'd kissed Kenny!  
"_He seemed fine! It was HIM that made the first move, not me!_" I frowned, realising that my two best friends were arguing about me. I pressed my ear against the door so I could hear them better.  
"_Of COURSE he made the first move! That bastard has been making him do all sorts of God-awful things for the past seven years! He's used to being used for sex! It's the norm_" I could practically imagine the fuming look on Stan's face as he said that, and I could feel a blush rising up my neck. I didn't like them arguing about me.  
"_That doesn't mean he'd ever want to do it! I won't push him into doing anything, you know that!_" their voices were getting louder and louder with each remark, making eaves-dropping considerably easier for me. Is it even called eaves-dropping when what's being said is about you?  
"_Oh, yeah right. This is coming from the guy who didn't stop tracking up long enough to notice the bruises his friend was ALWAYS covered in!_" A single tear trickled down my cheek. Stan's last comeback resulted in an awkward silence; the tension was so strong you could have cut it with a knife.  
"_You said it wouldn't have made any difference._" I had to press my ear harder against the door to hear that.  
"_So? He needed you to be there for him, Kenny! And you weren't! Do you have any idea how many teary phone calls I've had from him? That fucker was killing him and you didn't even notice it!_" I bit my lip guiltily. I'd never meant to cause Stan such annoyance, but I seemed to reminded of it more and more recently. _See, he's had enough of you! You should just kill yourself and rid him of the burden!  
_I pulled a shirt over my head, deciding to end it before they tore each other's throats out.

_"Colt?" I pop my head around the door. He's lying spread-eagled over the bed, fully naked, and snoring loud enough to wake the neighbours. And guess what? I've just come home from a late-night shift to find my boyfriend in bed with someone else.  
Great. Just great. Why don't I just leave him? He treats me like shit, telling me when we have sex, getting drunk of his ass, and sleeping with other people. He's even hit me a few times, hard enough to leave marks. But every time I try to leave him, I end up coming back. Every Goddamn time. It's as if we're playing games or something._

I blinked a couple of times, trying to clear my vision. _It's finally happened. You've gone insane._ 'What the hell just happened?' I thought to myself. When I finally left my room, Stan and Kenny were sitting at the table, drinking coffee, and seemingly done with arguing. I slid down in a free chair. I could feel them both watching me, knowing they were probably both wondering if I'd heard them or not.  
"You okay?" they were both looking at me worriedly. I nodded- an answer which was deemed to be satisfactory for Kenny, but not Stan. That guy can read me like an open book. He placed a hand on my forehead, and frowned.  
"No you're not. You should go back to bed."  
"I'm fine Stan. Really, you don't need to worry about me. I'm fine." he shook his head at me, but said nothing else.

_It was his good looks I fell in love with first. His piercing eyes gave him a mysterious look, his blonde, closely cropped hair making him look strong and serious. He was tanned, and absolutely gorgeous.  
Did I say was? I suppose he still is, in a way.  
But he started taking drugs a few months back, and since then, any idea he had of personal hygiene has gone out the window. His hair, greasy and sticking out, is about halfway between his ears and his shoulders. His eyes seem less captivating when they constantly hold a betraying factor of drug abuse- his pupils are nearly always dilated, and if the cops in this town weren't so damn useless I'd worry about him being booked. But no. He'll continue to take whatever the hell he wants, and I'll continue to do whatever the hell he wants.  
God, why am I so fucking spineless?_

**_A:N: _**_I know you may not think over 2500 words is much of an accomplishment, but I am so proud of me!  
I can imagine that this chapter may seem a bit stiff in places, but I'm hoping you'll forgive me due to the length of the actual thing. I've been up all night writing this...  
And yeah... The Kyle kissing Kenny thing was rather random. I wasn't actually planning it, it just kinda happened.  
Whether it's just gonna serve as filler or you can expect some K2 in the next few chapters is a surprise... To everybody, 'cause I'm not sure I want it to go anywhere or not anyway. Sorry if I got your hopes up!_

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this; thanks for reading and reviews are always welcomed, whether good or bad!  
Although I do admittedly do rather the good. Just saying.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: **I'm planning to involve a non-graphic rape scene in this chapter. If you can't stand reading about that kinda stuff, then this may not be your cup of tea.  
But keep in mind that it WILL be non-graphic._

**Chapter seven – And I checked this time.  
**I rolled over in bed, my eyes resting on the luminous clock on my bedside table. It was almost four in the morning. I sighed resignedly, having barely slept over the past few nights. I was having nightmares about three or four times a night, and it was taking a serious toll on me. I'd wake up panting, sweaty, and crying- and if it was a really bad one, I also tended to scream. Stan was always up in a flash, followed by Kenny, who at the time was sleeping on Stan's couch. He reasoned that he while had nowhere to go he might as well stay with us until he was back on his feet.  
We'd barely spoken since the night we kissed; Stan would rarely leave us alone in a room together. I'd heard him and Kenny arguing about it again a few more times of times since then, and as endearing as having my ear squashed up against the door was, I was starting to get bored of the same things being said over and over again. Wendy was out of town visiting a sick aunt, and with the peace-keeper being away, voices seemed to be raised every other night.  
This particular dream was awful. It wasn't like any other I'd ever had before. I sighed again, and reached for my 'dream journal'. I flicked through the pages absent-mindedly, each one tracing over the same things, the same, tortured memories.  
I began to write while the dream was still painfully fresh in my mind.

_I'm alone in a room. There's a double bed in the middle; it's a bit like like the one me and Colt used to share, but it's not our bedroom. There's blood everywhere, staining the duvet, the walls, my clothes... It's everywhere.  
Fear grips at my heart like a thick layer of ice running through my veins. I feel as if I am being suffocated, as if my head is being ducked under water. I can feel a pair of hands around my throat, even though I'm the only one in the room. I hear heavy footsteps on floorboards, and I brace myself, half expecting Colt to burst through the door. But it doesn't sound like Colt. The steps are too drawn out, too slow.  
A sudden blast of icy wind whips past me, and I spin around to find the window open. Oddly enough, I hadn't noticed there being a window before. I close it, and turn back round. I gasp. There is something written on the wall in blood.  
It says:  
**In life, I will torture you.  
In death, I will haunt you.**_

"Are you okay, dude? You look like shit." I mumbled something incoherent, a half-assed retort, and buried my head further into my folded arms.I heard Stan clap Kenny over the back of his head, and couldn't help but smile.  
"Hey!"  
"Well you weren't exactly being the mayor of tact now, were you?" I lifted my head, and blinked at the bright lights.  
"Thanks" I motioned to the cup of coffee Stan pushed towards me. He smiled, and turned to wash up the bowls from breakfast.  
"Did you have nightmares again Ky?" he sounded concerned.  
"Nah" I lied. He turned around, one eyebrow raised and a sceptical look plastered on his face.  
"I don't know why I bother asking everyday. It's always the same answer, and I always know you're lying."  
"Hey, I'm not-" he shook his head, turning to face us. He leant against the counter.  
"Sure you're not. Listen Kyle, I hear you talking in your sleep- I already told you so. You don't have to lie to me anymore, I'm just trying to help dude." I stared at my hands, clasped neatly in my lap. He sighed. "What was it this time?"  
"I don't know... It was really weird. Bloody."  
"Your blood? Or someone else's...?"  
"I don't know. But it was everywhere. All over the walls and everything... And I felt really weird. Like someone was choking me."  
"Want me to call Charlie?" Kenny offered. We both blinked at him for a second, before bursting into laughter. I don't know why, it wasn't even that funny. All he'd done was gotten my counsellor's name wrong, and me and Stan were laughing as much as we used to when we watched Terrence and Philip.  
"What? Tell me! Do I have something on my face?" he asked, rubbing at invisible tomato sauce stains.

_I'm trapped against a wall, my arms pinned to my sides. Sweat and tears flow freely down my body, as does the blood that runs down my legs.  
I sob quietly as he licks all the way from my naval to my neck, tasting my salty tears and biting down on my shoulder, eliciting a fresh squeal from me.  
He's told me when he wants sex before, and to keep him happy I always agree... But he never did anything like this. I'd told him no, but he wouldn't take that as an answer. Before I knew it, I was... He had...  
He's just going through a phase... Stop being such a wimp and take it like a real man._

"Is he like having a seizure or something?" _  
_I was shaking so hard that I'd have dropped my cup of coffee had Stan not taken it off me. A single tear trailed down my cheek, and I blinked with surprise. I was faintly aware of a hand placed on my back, gently guiding me through to the bedroom. My name was being said, over and over.  
But I just couldn't seem to shake it off- as if a veil of fog was draped over my conscious mind. _Freak._

"Dude, what the fuck happened to your face?" I irritably push Stan's hand away as it reaches up to touch the purple bruising around me eye.  
"I fell." I reply flatly. He shakes his head at me.  
"You don't have to be ashamed of it y'know. We've all had one bad fight in our lifetime. I shrugged, turning away so my black eye isn't so noticeable.  
You are such a coward.

"Nngh..." I coughed a little, my throat burning, my head throbbing. I open my eyes to see a worn-out looking Stan sitting on the bed beside me.  
"Hey Kyle" he smiled gently at me, a false charade of sorts. "You're sick." _Yeah. You are. _I coughed again.  
"Can you pass me my journal?" I asked hoarsely. He frowned slightly, and handed it over. I wrote my latest nightmares in with shaky hands. Stan peered over my shoulder.  
"They're getting worse, aren't they?" I shrugged.  
"Kinda. I just keep having flashbacks and stuff, it's really weird." He placed the back of his hand to my forehead.  
"Hopefully that's just 'cause you've got a fever. But we'll talk about it when we see Conner next." _Retard._

**A/N:**_Okay, I'm apparently back to short chapters again.  
That's due to two reasons:  
a) I'm sick of filler. I seriously hate it.  
b) I actually had to force myself to write this chapter anyway. I hope it doesn't seem forced- but it was. To be honest, I'm getting bored of having so few reviews compared to the amount of favourites or alerts. I know Fanfiction hasn't been working right and all that, and I also know how much of a pain it can be to review.  
But I'm at a point in my life where things are so hard that if I get a compliment, no matter how small, I cling onto it. You know why? Because I have nothing else right now.  
So if you want me to continue, please review, pass onto your friends, whatever.  
I'm getting bored of this story and having to write it out when I'm not even sure people are enjoying it or not.  
So I'm sorry to those of you who are, but I might take a break for a while. Until I feel I'm 'inspired' enough to continue.  
Sorry._


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: **__I was going to include a couple of other chapters before this one, but I've been busy, and I'm getting tired of this to be honest. :/ It feels like I'm wasting my time, because hardly anybody's reviewing, and I haven't actually GOT time to waste. But thanks to those who have shown an interest (:  
__**WARNING:**__ This chapter contains rape. Poor Kyle. I'm so mean!_

**Chapter eight**  
I wondered aimlessly through the aisles of groceries and hummed contentedly. I'd told Stan I'd get dinner tonight, and I wasn't paying attention to anything but the rows of vegetables in front of me.  
"Hello, little slut." I jumped at the familiar snarl from behind me, and spun round to face the figure looming above me. I swallowed apprehensively, sparing a glance for the hand he'd clapped onto my shoulder, nails digging in just enough for it to hurt.  
"C-Colt..." I stammered._ Go! He's __**not **__your boyfriend anymore, GO!  
_"Thought you'd lost me, had 'ya?" he hissed. I looked around fearfully. A few heads had turned in our direction.  
"Please, not here," I begged "People are staring!" He pulled me closer so that our noses were almost touching. There was something... Odd about it. There was no scent of alcohol on his breath.  
For the first time since I'd known him, he wanted to beat the shit out of me sober. _He really hates you. _  
"Meet me at Stark's Pond in an hour" he growled "Or your buddy Stan will suffer for it."

_Thirty minutes later...  
_"Where're you going, babe?" Wendy asked as I shrugged on my jacket. I paused, looking deep into her beautiful eyes, the colour of emeralds. She was looking expectantly at me.  
"Just... Just goin' for a walk." I assured her. _TELL HER! _She smiled at me.  
"Okay, babe. Just take care of yourself. You're looking kinda tired." I nodded, and tried to return her smile.

_Forty-five minutes later...  
Okay. Okay. Don't panic. Just get to Stark's Pond, and tell him you're over. You can do this. You can do this... Oh, I can so totally __**not **__do this! Oh my God... What the hell am I gonna do?  
Okay. Don't panic..._ _Just do what he says... You're such a coward... A faggot.  
Stan wouldn't even miss you if Colt were to kill you today._

_One hour later..._  
I shivered as he licked my neck, before trying to push me to my knees, -no doubt to do some unspeakable act to me- but I refused to be had so easily. I pushed against him.  
"No! Get off!" I screamed. _You can do better then that, you slut! It's as if you WANT him to do it! _He smiled sadistically at me.  
"Don't worry little fuck, we'll have some fun today. Oh no, I'll make sure that you don't _ever _forget this." He grabbed my arm and pulled it behind my back so he could get me to move.  
"You'll never get away with this" I spat. "I fucking hate you, and I always will!"  
"Oh yeah?" he snarled. He twisted my arm further behind my back, causing pain to shoot up my arm and resulting in me howling. "You wanna try that again?" he whispered into my ear. It took every last bit of the willpower in my body, but I shook my head. He let out a deep growl, and yanked my arm back again. There was a sickening crack, and I gasped. I wanted to scream, to release all the pain into the open, but it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from my lungs. The world seemed to be spinning, and I thought I was going to throw up from the ravaging fire that had spread up my bone. Tears streamed down my face; they were the only part of me that was warm. My arm was in a horribly twisted position, and I barely noticed as he pushed his jeans and boxers down. I _did _however notice when he tried to take down my own.  
"N-no..." I sobbed feebly, my voice barely audible.  
"You're gonna have to do better than that, little fuck." his face was contorted into a sick smile.  
"P-please... Please don't Colt..." he cupped a hand to his ear, as if he hadn't heard me.  
"Oh I'm sorry. Please don't what?" I choked back a sob.  
"Please don't fuck me..." he laughed.  
"Louder."  
"Please don't fuck me"  
"Louder!"  
"Please don't fuck me!" he laughed again, and pulled us closer.  
"Too late." he whispered in my ear. He shoved me down again so I was lying on my stomach, naked from the waist down. He trailed a finger down my spine, and I shook with fear and pain, crying out as he put pressure on my broken arm. I felt him put his throbbing cock at my entrance, and buried my head in the ground. _He's going to fuck you dry... Run...  
_His sudden thrust into me eliciting an ear-piercing shriek from my already sore throat; and I screamed even louder as he pulled in and out of me agonisingly slowly; the burning, scraping feeling making my broken bones seem like a paper cut._ You deserve this, fag._  
I screamed until I was hoarse; until I could scream no more. And he got pleasure from that fact. He let out blissful moans, pumping me hard, and gradually increasing in speed. It hurt like a bitch, but he didn't care.  
He was fucking me close to the point where I passed out from the pain, but he still didn't care.

"Kyle?" a voice yelled. _Oh God, no!  
"_Fuck!" Colt hissed. He slammed a hand over my mouth and pulled me along backwards, so we were lurking in the shadows of the forest.  
"Kyle?" the desperate cry came again. For the first time in my life, I sensed an emotion flowing through Colt's veins that wasn't the result of booze or drugs. _Fear. _He was panicking. He lay me on the ground quietly so as not to lure Stan over to us, and wrapped his hands around my throat. He applied pressure, gently at first, but starting to squeeze harder and harder until his grip felt bone-breaking. _KICK! BITE! PUNCH! ANYTHING! _He was choking me, and I was allowing him to do so. _COWARD! YOU FUCKING COWARD! _To this day I still don't know why, but I didn't even try and fight back. That little voice inside my head was screaming, _screaming _at me to kick, punch, do anything that could keep me from passing out. But I didn't.  
I just didn't.  
And the last thing I did before my world faded to black?  
I smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Epilogue**  
I carefully trace the letters with my fingertips, gently brushing the letters, tear-stains smudging the ink and making them unrecognisable. But I can still presume who this letter is for, and I turn it over with shaking hands, and slide my finger underneath the flap of the envelope, opening it slowly so as not to rip it. I take out the single piece of paper, neatly folded in half. I smooth it out, and begin to read.  
As I go on, tears start to trickle down my cheeks, and by the time I get to the bottom of the letter, I am a wreck. I only read it once. I need no clarification._

_After a while, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and looking up, smile at it's owner. I take the offered hand, and allow it to help me to stand._

I look towards the heavy wooden box in the centre of the room, where a crowd has gathered. I move towards it, and it starts to disperse, a few of its members giving me sympathetic nods or gentle pats on the shoulder.  
I place the note into his clasped hands, and fold them neatly onto his still chest. I lean down, kiss him gently on the cheek, and walk away.  
  
_**The End**_


End file.
